When the sun was beginning to set behind the peaks of the mountains, Fiorwen began to stir. She moved her head and then opened her eyes slowly. She was looking up at a pink and purple sky, completely relaxed. Suddenly she remembered her situation. She stiffened visibly, if anyone except the horse had been watching. Slowly she raised her head and scanned the area for Jaron. Not seeing him she raised her arm to look at it. When her eyes fastened on the spot where the gash used to be, she gasped. It was healed to perfection, only a thin, uneven silver line, maybe less than a quarter of an inch wide, stretched from just above her wrist to just below her elbow, remained to testify to the fact that she had, at one point, received a mortal wound there. She raised her other arm and ran her fingertips over the slightly raised, shiny silver line that would remain with her for the rest of her days, never fading, never shrinking, always there, a constant reminder. She lowered her head and arms and propped herself up on her elbows. Her thoughts raced, stopping to linger lovingly on a plan of escape. Then she saw the figure of Jaron lying at her feet.
Her thoughts jerked away from plans of escape as if they were a hot potato. She slowly lowered herself back down into a lying position, and was about to put herself into a self-induced sleep[1] when she realized that Jaron was not sleeping next to her as usual. Jaron knew how to stop her from going into the elfin coma, and he made sure she could not go into one by sleeping with his iron ringed hand bound to her head. The only time his iron ring was not touching her head was when they were up and awake. Cautiously she opened her eyes, the sky was now orange and red. Slowly she sat up and poked the figure of Jaron with the tip of her foot. Jaron mumbled and then began to snore. The corners of Fiorwen's mouth turned up slightly as once again her thoughts raced to plans of escape. She had, for the first time, choices. She could put herself into the elfin coma and hope that he would leave her there, or take her with him and then hope he might die after a year, or that he would tire of carrying her unconscious body around, and leave her someplace. She could try to make a run for it now, take his horse and make for Rivendell or Lothlorian to warn the elves. She could steal the ring from him and take it back into Mount Doom and throw it from the ledge into the pit, then either stay with him or escape. Fiorwen glanced at the sky, now red and purple. Then she glanced down at her feet. They were still tied. She reached down, and quickly had the multiple knots undone. She stood and stretched. She looked at Jaron for a brief moment, before making up her mind. She turned and ran for the horse. It would be suicidal to try to steal the Ring. He would either wake up and kill her, or he would kill her after she destroyed the Ring. She would flee towards Rivendell. She reached the horse and threw herself on it.
"Fly, like the wind," she urged the animal in a whisper as she grabbed it's reins. The animal whirled and took off, galloping down the side of the mountain. As the animal turned it released a loud nicker that ricocheted off the high walls of the mountains. The combined amplified noise of the crashing hooves and the horse nickering woke Jaron from his deep sleep. He jerked to his feet stumbling over the blanket his legs were tangled in. Cursing, he shouted after her.
"Damn Elf-Dwarf[2]! I'll get you. Sometime, I will get you!" by the time he had finished his statements, Fiorwen had vanished from view. "She's going to help me finish this. I an going to get her," he stated. His faced seemed to be etched in granite.
[1] Elves can put themselves in deep sleeps, a bit like a coma, if they feel the need is necessary. While in this sleep they are aware of everything going on around them, but they can not be woken up. Their heart and breath rates slow while in this state. This has served as a protection tactic for many an elfin prisoner of war. While in this state they can not speak, hence they can not reveal any secrets. This is known by few, but, An elf can be prevented from going into this state by placing an iron object on the elf's forehead, or sitting the elf up(they can only do it if they are lying down flat). Once in this sleep there is no way to wake the elf out of it. Elves can stay in this coma-like state for up to a year without suffering any side effects. After this time is up the elf must rouse in order to eat and drink, but after one meal they can once again place themselves in the state for another year. This process can go on indefinitely. The record was 21 years.
[2] The biggest insult to an elf is to be called an Elf-Dwarf.